


Dark Romantix

by faisdebeauxreves



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon Compliant, Draco Malfoy is a Tease, Ginny is dead, M/M, except for Cursed Child I've never read it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-10
Updated: 2019-02-10
Packaged: 2019-10-25 16:14:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17728532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faisdebeauxreves/pseuds/faisdebeauxreves
Summary: After a lifetime of obstacles, Harry thought he had finally conquered his demons. But now he’s a widower with three children, and he’s discovering that life as a single father is a much more daunting task than trying to defeat He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named. Nobody understands his struggles… that is, until Draco Malfoy comes along. A whirlwind of events catapults his childhood rival back into his life in a way that he never expected.





	1. Remembrance

Harry hated London.  
It was hard to imagine he’d ever been enchanted with the city. Once it had been an escape from a difficult life, but now that he was in the thick of it he found the place overall too noisy, the air polluted and everything too busy for his liking.  
Having to Floo there every day had taken its toll. As he did every morning, he stepped into the main entryway of the Ministry of Magic, where at once he was transported from the quietude of home to the bustling activity of the workplace.  
“Is that him?”  
“Shh!”  
“I always thought he'd be taller…”  
“It’s the scar! Look!”  
Harry ignored the whispers from visitors to the Ministry as he took up his bag and strode out into the main corridor. There was always a little bit of commotion when he arrived at the beginning of the day. People who had never seen him before were always a bit overwhelmed to discover that he was, in fact, a real person and not the myth that they had made him out to be.  
Yet another reason he hated London, he thought dryly. The witches and wizards who lived in Godric’s Hollow had long become used to his presence. However, recent events had once again made him the subject of whispered rumors, and it was more difficult than ever to find a place where he could be at peace.  
It was the same in the Auror office, as he discovered when he stepped foot inside and a trio of witches abruptly broke apart from their hushed conversation.  
“Good morning,” said Harry.  
The three of them didn’t say anything for a long several seconds, instead eyeing one another as if not quite certain how they should respond to this less-than-remarkable greeting. Finally, the eldest of them began to approach Harry, her hand outreached slightly.  
“We didn’t think you’d come today…”  
Harry’s heart sank. He’d hoped nobody had noticed, but of course they had. Everybody had loved Ginny. It only made sense that this anniversary would catch the attention of more than just himself and his family.  
“I’d be useless at home,” he said after a momentary lapse in which he’d struggled to find something to say to brush them off. Coming up with nothing, he decided he may as well tell the truth. “Too much on my mind and not enough to do. It’d be a recipe for disaster. At least here I can keep busy. Try not to think about it so much.”  
The closest witch nodded sympathetically, but the two others were sharing an odd look, as if they didn’t quite agree with Harry’s decision to be here today. He could guess why that was the case. They had some romantic notion that he would be at home clutching his chest and weeping, or do whatever it was people did when they grieved.  
But for Harry, for a long while now, grieving had meant getting on with life. That was precisely why he was here now. He would go and see Mr. and Mrs. Weasley later. He would have dinner with them, and perhaps stop by to see Ron and Hermione too before the hour grew too late. The kids were at Hogwarts, which meant he wouldn’t be able to see them today, but he had plans to visit them at Hogsmeade over the coming weekend.  
However, this morning he had work that needed to be done.  
“Well… I’ll see you later,” he said when nobody had spoken for a minute or so. “I’ll be at my desk if you need me.” And then he was off, before they asked any more questions or gave him any more of those looks.  
Ginevra Weasley had been dead for exactly a year. It had been a tumultuous year, to say the least. James’s anger about the situation had gotten him into more than a little trouble, and Albus had been quieter than ever. Lily had begun her first year at Hogwarts without her mother. To cope, she’d sent letter after letter home addressed to Ginny, telling her of everything happening at the old school, knowing they would never be answered.  
“Come stay with us for a while,” Mrs. Weasley had said more than once. “It must be lonely sitting in that house all by yourself.”  
It was lonely. But Harry didn’t know if he could stand too much company these days, especially if that company happened to be Ginny’s parents. Memories of his life with Ginny abounded in the small house they’d bought together after getting married, but they were nothing compared to the memories of her at The Burrow, where he’d watched her grow from a shy, small girl to a fierce and independent young woman.  
Even the thought of going there tonight made his stomach curdle – but that was a problem for later. For now, he pulled up his first case file of the day and began to examine it, hoping that somehow focusing on somebody else’s problem would make him forget his own.  
##

Harry hadn’t been able to make it. He was certain he would hear from Mrs. Weasley later, wondering and worrying about why he hadn’t come over as he’d promised, but the thought of being there, of being surrounded by memories of her, had been too much to bear.  
Which was why he’d come to The Leaky Cauldron to bury himself in glass after glass of Firewhiskey.  
It wasn’t the most inconspicuous place – there were still people here whispering and watching – but Harry had become so used to it after a lifetime of fame that it all faded into the background as he sat at the bar nursing his glass. For the most part, people were content to leave him alone tonight, and that was good enough for him.  
Good enough, that was, until he heard the barstool being pulled out beside him and glanced over to see a familiar, and not so welcome, presence at his side.  
“Long time, no see Potter.”  
“Malfoy,” Harry bit back.  
Then the two men shared slight smiles of amusement, remembering their childhood rivalry – and the disastrous consequences of that enmity – before each returned to his own thoughts, content to leave the other in peace.  
Harry glanced at the clock. It was nearing nine, and he supposed that by now Mrs. Weasley must be frantic with worry. He hoped Mr. Weasley would be able to calm her down.  
For a moment, he mused on whether he ought not to go after all. It would be the right thing to do, the proper thing, to pay his respects to his late wife’s parents.  
Then, resolute that this was the last thing that he wanted tonight, Harry downed the contents of his glass and gestured to the barkeep to give him another.  
“Hitting it a bit hard tonight, aren’t we?”  
Startled out of his thoughts, Harry turned slightly to see Draco looking at him.  
“Guess so,” he muttered as the barkeep came around to pour more Firewhiskey into his glass. “I plan on drinking myself into a stupor tonight. Seems like the right thing to do.”  
“Our hero, Harry James Potter.” Draco raised his own glass, which the barkeep had just sat down in front of him. “To your health.”  
Absentmindedly, Harry raised his own glass. A stray thought passed through his mind – what would Ginny have thought of him sitting here in this bar, sharing a toast with his one-time enemy? She probably would have been just as astonished as if he’d gone out drinking with Voldemort himself.  
Draco seemed to be thinking the same thing. After a little time had passed with the two of them sitting there in silence, the man said, “Can’t believe I’m sitting here with you, of all people.”  
“You’re not really with me,” Harry pointed out. “Just sitting here beside me.”  
Draco snorted in response. “Of course. Should I move? Wouldn’t want you getting in trouble with your superiors at the Auror office, sitting here with a former Death Eater.”  
“As if an evening in your presence could do any damage to my reputation,” said Harry.  
Draco let out a quiet laugh. “I suppose not. Killing You-Know-Who twice has pretty much given you a free pass to do whatever you want. Dunno why you don’t take advantage of that more often.”  
“I’ve always gotten the best Quidditch seats,” said Harry. “Though that has as much to do with my wife as me…”  
Without thinking, Harry had brought up Ginny. Now the dull ache that had been inside him all day seared him anew. Now he was filled with memories, of Ginny playing in school, and later with the Holyhead Harpies – of Ginny’s teasing that after all his pomp in school she was the real Quidditch star.  
“Right. Happened about a year ago, didn’t it?” said Draco.  
“A year ago today,” said Harry. He took another drink.  
Another silence fell between them, lingering for a moment or two too long before Draco said, “Right. Sorry about that.”  
The words might have seemed insincere to anybody who hadn’t heard the same sentiments repeated a hundred times. But Harry knew from experience how awkward and uncomfortable it made people to speak of the dead, especially with the person most afflicted by their passing. He’d learned that first as a child, for the second time after the Battle of Hogwarts, and now that Ginny was gone he’d been through the same ordeal.  
“Heard you got divorced,” said Harry. “Bit unusual for a wizarding family. Especially a pureblood one.” He wasn’t going to be the only one forced to deal with harsh reality, Harry thought to himself as he brought up what he was certain to be a sore subject. But when he mentioned it, Draco only laughed again.  
“It is unusual, yes. But perhaps not surprising. It was only a matter of time before Astoria got tired of me and found someone better.”  
It was then that Harry noted just how different the Draco he was sitting with now was from the boy that he had known in his youth. He turned to glance at him. He had the same white-blond hair, the same pointed chin and sharp blue eyes… but there was something a little bit changed in his face. Maybe it was a little softened now. More handsome, even. Certainly more humble.  
Or maybe it was just the Firewhiskey making him think such stupid things.  
But as he glanced at Draco, the man turned and their eyes met. Draco was drinking from his glass, holding himself upright as opposed to Harry’s slouched form over the edge of the bar. He cut an aristocratic figure – something to be expected given the princely manner in which he’d been raised.  
“You’ve really changed,” Harry mused out loud, catching himself an instant later when he realized he’d said what he’d been thinking out loud.  
“And you haven’t,” said Draco. “Which is a pity.”  
Harry didn’t quite know what to make of that. But before he could ask what he’d meant, Draco was motioning for the barkeep to come over and fill both of their glasses yet again. 

##  
His head was pounding.  
Harry’s first wild, irrational thought was that his scar was hurting again. Hand darting up, he touched the lightning bolt shaped mark on his forehead. It was then that he realized it wasn’t the scar that hurt – it was everything inside his skull. On top of that, his stomach felt as if it were filled with lead.  
How long had it been since he’d had a hangover? Had he ever even had a hangover? The last time he remembered well and truly getting drunk was in celebration, just a little while after Voldemort’s demise.  
With a groan, he began to pull himself out of bed… only to note with mild panic that he wasn’t in his own bed. In fact, he wasn’t quite certain where he was, except as he sat there under the covers he was sure he could hear the taps from a shower nearby running.  
On top of that, he was naked under the covers. A quick glance around showed him his robes strewn out over the floor. Hurriedly, he threw off the blanket covering him and found the robes, pulling them on. It looked as if he’d gone home with someone, but who?  
He couldn’t remember speaking to any attractive women at the Leaky Cauldron the night before. In fact, he could barely remember anything from the night before – nothing but speaking to Draco, and surely…  
The taps stopped. Harry swiveled around just in time to hear the door creak open and see someone, a very familiar someone, step into the room.  
Harry stared at Draco. Draco smirked back.  
“What the f—"


	2. The Unknown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What did Harry do last night? He doesn't remember, and he's not sure he even wants to know...

Dumbfounded, Harry took in the room surrounding him. He hadn’t paid much attention to the space on just waking, but now he could see that it was someone’s private room, a spectacle of a living space outfitted in black and silver. The four poster bed he’d woken up in was lavishly adorned with engravings of serpents, bringing to mind Slytherin house back at Hogwarts.   
There was no mistaking it. This was definitely Draco’s bedroom.   
“How the hell did I end up here?” he asked, ignoring the pounding in his head and the fact that his stomach was turning somersaults in his abdomen.  
“How do you think?” Draco answered.   
Like Harry, Draco was wearing robes, but he’d obviously had a change since the night before. Gone were the basic black robes of a wizard out running errands, replaced by robes of a deep emerald green. Harry noted that the robes were cut a little tight, showing off the angles of Draco’s body beneath them – something he most certainly wouldn’t have been thinking about if it weren’t for his current circumstances. He didn’t know that he’d ever paid Draco’s body any attention ever before, and he certainly didn’t intend to start now.   
But there was a burning question on Harry’s mind, and before he simply apparated out of there, he had to know…  
“We didn’t – last night…” Harry paused for a moment, trying to collect his thoughts and figure out exactly how he could broach such a horrid subject. “Nothing happened did it?”  
Draco smirked again, looking positively evil this time. “Oh, so you don’t remember then? I figured that might be the case when you woke up.”  
“I don’t remember what?” said Harry. “Tell me. Tell me now, everything that happened.” Reaching into the front pocket of his robes, he felt for his wand, but it wasn’t there. Now it was time for him to scramble, searching about the edges of the bed for his wand.   
Draco laughed as he stood there watching him. “Your wand is in the top drawer there,” he said. “But I’m hoping you don’t intend to curse me with that thing.”  
Ignoring Draco, Harry opened the drawer that he’d mentioned and found his wand sitting on top of a pile of papers. Quickly he withdrew it and put it back in its proper place, deciding in an instant that he’d rather not know how it got there. The sooner he got out of this situation, the better.  
“I’m not going to curse you,” Harry finally said. “But I do want to know whether anything happened last night that I should know about.”  
Letting out a melodramatic sigh, Draco came further into the room. “What a pity. After everything we had together… what’s the last thing you do remember, Potter?”  
“I remember us sitting together in the Leaky Cauldron. Nothing after that. I’ve got no idea how the hell I ended up here, or why of all people I would go off with you.”  
“I guess you must like me better than you’re willing to admit,” said Draco, sounding more than a little smug as he did so.   
Harry didn’t like Draco – not even a small amount. The fact that he’d thought the man had changed a little from their school days didn’t excuse the fact that Draco had been horrid to him from the time he was eleven – that he’d joined up with the Death Eaters and tried to kill Albus Dumbledore on top of that… No, there was nothing about Draco that he liked, Harry lied to himself as he continued to watch the way that Draco’s robes moved over the angles of his body.   
“I’ll ask you one more time. What happened last night?” Now Harry was forcing a calmness into his voice, hoping against hope that showing he wasn’t so easily perturbed would make Draco finally relent and just give him the details of the evening before, even the ones that he’d rather not know about. But it didn’t seem as if that would be the case, because Draco just continued to smirk at him.  
“What do you think happened?” Draco said.   
Harry didn’t want to think. He just wanted to be over this ordeal, done with it so he could move on with his life and pretend that Draco didn’t exist, as he had for the past twenty years apart from the few chance encounters they’d had.   
Unable to stop himself given his headache, which was making the room spin at an agonizing rotation, Harry dropped down on the edge of the bed. He closed his eyes. “It’s not possible,” he finally said after several long moments. “I’m straight.”  
“Now, I’d always wondered about that,” said Draco, “even back when we were in school. You were always so oblivious to all the girls hanging around you… Merlin’s Beard, a bunch of us in Slytherin were betting whether you and Weasley were an item.” When Harry looked up, Draco quickly corrected himself. “Not Ginevra. Ron Weasley.”  
“And you? You’re not straight?” said Harry.   
“I like who I like. It’s never really mattered what they have in their pants. The only thing I care about is whether I’m on top.”  
At that, Harry froze, a horrible feeling coming over him. Draco… on top? But for that to be the case, that would mean that he was…  
“No,” said Harry. “No. Absolutely not. I refuse to think about this any longer. I’m leaving, and I’ll thank you not to mention this night to anybody else. I don’t care what happened now. I just want you back out of my life where you belong.”  
And with that, he focused his attention on the Ministry of Magic, and with a faint pop apparated out of the room and into the main hall of that space. Now people were staring at him again, but for a completely different reason than they had the day before, he guessed. Without having changed and having spent the entire night drinking, he was sure he looked a mess.   
Without greeting anybody, he rushed off to the Auror office, keeping his head down as he once again passed the trio of witches from yesterday and hoping against hope that nobody would bother him until he managed to get hold of the spare robes that he kept in his desk drawer. After that, he rushed off to the restroom to change, noting in the mirror that his hair was more disheveled than usual.   
“Ugh… Malfoy…” Leaning down, he gripped the edges of the sink and heaved a tremendous sigh. Perhaps he should just find his supervisor and tell her he was sick, he thought to himself. It would be the first time in a long while since he’d had a sick day, so he didn’t think that she would object.   
He had resigned himself to do just that when he turned around and ran directly into his late wife’s father.   
“Mr. Weasley…”  
“Harry! You gave Molly and me a fright when you didn’t turn up last night. I hope everything’s all right?”  
“Oh… right, sorry…” Harry reached up and ran his fingers through his hair, trying to flatten it, even if just a little bit. As always, the gesture was futile and only served to make his hair stand up on end even more. “I suppose I was just feeling a little under the weather,” he said. “I would have sent an owl but I went straight to bed as soon as I got home.”  
“Ah, I see.” Mr. Weasley smiled congenially. “Well, as long as you’re feeling well today,” he said.  
“Actually, I’m thinking about going home,” said Harry. “My head is killing me…”  
“Oh?” Mr. Weasley’s expression changed from the placid one he typically wore to one of deep concern. “You haven’t been in any fights lately have you? Haven’t been cursed? I know things are tough in the Auror office, but…”  
“It’s nothing like that,” said Harry. He didn’t want to admit to Mr. Weasley that he’d simply had too much to drink, even if the man would have understood why that had been the case. Anything that brought to mind what had happened with Draco the night before was off limits right now, as he tried his best to forget the exchange that had passed between them barely a half hour before.   
“Ah, well. Let us know if we can be any help to you,” said Mr. Weasley. “You know Molly and I are always ready to help you out if you need us.”  
“That’s always good to hear,” said Harry. “But really, I’m fine. I think I just need to lay down for the rest of the day.”  
With that being said, he finally excused himself from Mr. Weasley and decided to go and find his superior. It took a little bit of searching, but he finally located the head of the Auror office out in the hallway, deep in conversation with one of the younger Auror recruits.   
“A moment of your time?” Harry said.   
Nina Holtz stopped in the middle of what she was saying to the younger man and turned to Harry – and immediately said, “You look like hell.”  
“I feel like it. I was just going to let you know that even though I came in today, I think I’m going to head home and try to sleep off this… whatever I have…” He mumbled the last part, but not for the first time that morning he had someone smirking at him.  
“A little bit of too-much-to-drink-itis?” said Nina. “I know how that feels. And of course you can have a day off. If you hadn’t asked for it I would have sent you home anyway. Can’t have you doing your best work when you look like you’re about to keel over on us.”  
“Thanks,” said Harry, though he could feel the tips of his ears turning red when he realized he’d been caught by Nina so quickly… Then again, he probably smelled as if he had slept on the floor of the Leaky Cauldron the night before given how much Firewhiskey he’d had – and that was only the Firewhiskey he remembered drinking. He was sure he’d had more than that if Draco had managed to convince him to go home with him.  
And there it was. He was thinking about him again, even though that was the last thing that he wanted. With a sigh, Harry finally headed down to the main floor of the ministry in preparation to apparate home. It took a little while, but before he knew it he was back at his own house, in his own bedroom and curling up beneath the covers to sleep off the rest of his hangover.   
But somehow, as he lay there in bed a pair of bright blue eyes kept coming to mind – eyes that jeered at him while in the same turn scanning up and down his body. Was this a memory of the night before, Harry wondered, or was he just imagining things?   
He didn’t know, and he didn’t want to know. Before he knew it, Harry was fast asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Slight spoiler for the future of this fic - don't read if you really don't want to know - but Draco did not take advantage of drunk Harry (for those who are worried about the non-con aspect of that last scene). That's all I wanted to say!


End file.
